The Heart Of A Ranger
by MemeofMirkwood
Summary: Aragorn never wanted to be King and now that he is, Minas Tirith feels like a prison to him. Will his desire to be free make him abandon both Gondor and Arwen?
1. 1

~*I don't own the characters you may recognize., they are the property of JRR Tolkien. All original or unknown character will be mine.*~  
  
Aragorn stared longingly out his throne room window down at his subjects. He watched as they went about their daily lives, secretly wishing to trade places with them. 'King Elessar', sometimes the title felt like a cage to him, bound to a life of service to his people. How he yearned to be known as 'Strider' again, desiring the freedom that had come with being a ranger of the North. The more time he spent in the castle, the more he missed his old life. Yet he continued his rule of Gondor, bringing joy and beauty back to The White City. Aragorn had much honor and would not break his promise to Borimir by abdicating and returning to his past existence.  
  
He could tell no-one of his feelings as there was no-one in the world that would understand him. The king even found it difficult to discuss with his wife, who was more precious then any jewel the Dwarves could mine. Still he could not or more so would not tell her about his need to be free again. To feel the soft grass on woods under his feet once more, would make him endlessly happy. Though Aragorn feared if he was to tell his bride he was unhappy, she would take it the wrong way and feel she had in some way done something wrong.  
  
Arwen had been raised as a princess, brought up as royalty. She's never known anything but that life and would not be able to see how anyone, even her beloved husband could not love it also. She certainly would never understand longing for something more that what is inside the palace walls. So Elessar kept silent and lived with his constant yearning for a simpler life.  
  
"Their majesties, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood and King Eomer of Rohan, are requesting an audience my Lord." The official sounding voice of one of Gondor's sentries interrupted Aragorn's thoughts.   
  
The King turned him head for the window and gave a nod to the guard. "Show them in."  
  
Aragorn stood in the center of the room with his shoulders squared and his cleft chin pointed. He was poised and noble looking as we waited for his friends to enter. When the hall door was closed and he was left alone with his two companions, his posture faltered and he stood less erect, more comfortably. "Years were have been friends and still they insist on announce your arrival like you are common strangers."  
  
"They are your guards Aragorn, it is their duty to protect you." Legolas reached out to touch the kings shoulder in their traditional greeting.  
  
"In all the years you have known me Legolas, when have I ever needed protection?"  
  
"It is the same in Rohan, Lord Aragorn, I see no one until they are declared to me. It is tradition, there are rules we must follow whether we agree with them or not. There is a proper way to do everything, as Kings it is our a responsibility abide by them, as all the kings of old have before us." Eomer declared knowingly.  
  
King Elessar shook his head, it was evident neither of his friends could see his point, to comprehend how confined he felt inside the spacious halls of Minas Tirith. Trapped by his lineage, he never wanted to be the king, to rule any land but that which he stood on. He longed to be free once more, to again see all that he had once seen, to leave the castle walls without fearing of what may happen to Gondor in his departure.   
  
He said nothing else of his problems through the rest of his quest's visit to his home, his prison. They like his wife had been raised from birth in regal care, sheltered and pampered as a prince and the King's nephew would be. They had never had true freedom and could sincerely miss it the same as Aragorn. He was alone in his heartache and longing for alive outside of the jail his title had brought.  
  
In the citadel stood a monument he had erected in Boromir's likeness, in tribute of the brave the son of Gondor, who would never return to his beloved land. It was strong and sturdy as the man it honored had been. Tall it stood, so large, on a clear night you could see it from Oscillate a token of glory. Aragorn crept to the statue and dropped to his knees in front of it.  
  
"Boromir, I can not do this. I can not be king. You were more meant for this then I, save my blood. Tis not fair that I should be here only by my bond too Isildur. You dear friend are destined for this, not I. I feel at times, Merry or Pippin would be better suited to be leader of Gondor, then I am.  
  
Curse this blood that flows in my veins! Curse that binds me to kingship, curse everything!"   
  
In the darkness of evening the king snuck from his chambers slipping into the stables. He mounted his horse and rode out into the inky black night, without saying goodbye to anyone. 


	2. 2

The eyes of Gondor's queen opened with a flutter as piercing blue orbs appeared in the center of her ivory flesh. She cocked her head gently too the right noticing the space beside her still as empty as it had been before sleep had taken her. The King had not been too bed, at least not with her. This was not an entirely unusual action, as Aragorn often would go days without slumber. A remnants of the ranger still in his blood. 

"Good morning, your majesty." A short, plump lump lady in waiting entered sleeping chambers and pushes the heavy purple tapestries on the window open, flooding the room with mid morning light. "Did you sleep well?"

Arwen nodded gracefully, her rosy lips raising to a tender smile. "'Quel **amrun **Lómódia, I did, as always."

"Shall I fetch your garments, My Lady?"

"Yes."

Arwen rose for her bed in one elegant gesture, gliding over the stone floor to dressing room. Her movements like flying. Even the way she dressed was breath taking. In her few years as queen she'd take on a more human sort of demeanor but the grace and valor of the elves would never completely desert their most fair. Their EvenStar. It was this simple yet marvelous quality that awed Gondor's the servants and honored guests alike.

The queen took her seat at the breakfast table, a bountiful spread of toast and fruit before her. While it was indeed a breakfast fit for a King, there was in fact something missing. The King himself. 

"Where is my husband?" Arwen's lovely eyebrows arched perfectly as her attention fell on the empty seat at the end of the table.

The dining room was silent, the maids and men looking at each, trying to think on what to say. Finally one of the citadel guards licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak.

"The king, your highness has not been seen all morning. He road out past dark last night, he has not returned."

Arwen was perplexed by this, many times had Aragorn left the palace grounds for moonlit rides, but never before had not returned. He'd also never ceased to inform his bride of his departure. Something was simply not right with this.

"Did he tell no one of his leaving?"

The response her majesty received was that of shaking heads and silence. Why had not come home, or seen fit to tell anyone of his going. Could he be hurt or lost. It was not likely, for the ranger still lived inside of him, but then why was he not back. Worry swept her pale body swiftly, settling upon her like water on sand. Sinking.

"Someone must know something. Fetch me Nikerym* Faramir."

As the room emptied and Arwen was left alone, fear clenched her chest. Could it be possible that Aragorn, king of men, lay battered and broken somewhere outside of the White City? It had been years since the last of war. The war of the ring. Perhaps her husbands skills were rusty and had failed him. Maybe he attacked by a lone Orc still left wondering Middle Earth in anger over the outcome of the war. Where was Aragorn and when would he return.

'Quel amrunLómódia*~ Good morning Lomodia

Nikerym*~Captain


End file.
